Flooded
by Cadiliniel
Summary: The death of Finduilas of Dol Amroth.


_Flooded_

Denethor, Steward of Gondor, sat upon his black seat. He could not call it a throne, not with the white gleam of the King's chair always looming over his shoulder. A book of ancient lore was open on his lap, but his eyes did not look at the words. They looked rather at a picture of the sea. He sighed loudly and rubbed his head. His wife was ill. Finduilas of Dol Amroth had not been herself for quite some time, but in the past week she had weakened rapidly. Denethor was blaming himself. He had neglected her somewhat of late, because of all the stirrings in Mordor. He closed the book and put it down on the floor. He slowly walked out of the hall onto the Citadel. Guards bowed to the Lord of Gondor as he walked towards the end of the Citadel and leaned on the wall. He looked out on the city so dear to him. The wind blew his greying hair from his face as he closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of the city below. Rarely did he find moments of calm, but this moment would not last.

Denethor did not hear the hurried footsteps against the stone until they were close behind him. He opened his eyes and suddenly turned round to find a young, breathless physician stood in front of him. "My Lord!" he gasped, "Lady Finduilas, she weakens." The man paused slightly, trying to be as gentle as he could, "She calls for you my lord." Denethor stared at the man for a while, unwilling to accept what his words implied. His voice shook as he answered.

"I will come now. You must return to her with haste."

"Yes, my lord" the physician replied, and ran back towards the room where Finduilas lay dying.

Denethor walked into a darkened room. Heavy curtains were drawn over the large windows. A few maids were in the room, gathered round the bed where Finduilas lay. They turned and bowed to Denethor as he walked towards his ailing wife. "My love?" He spoke barely above a whisper, yet managed to keep the fear from his voice, for her sake. Finduilas opened her eyes and smiled.

"Dene?" Denethor took her hand and sat on the edge of the bed. Her voice was weak, her face pale. Denethor touched her face. It was cold, but a sweat lay on her brow.

"How are you feeling?" Denethor asked, looking for something to say. Finduilas's eyes searched his face.

"I am…still here…" she answered. Denethor's eyes began to fill with tears, but he kept them from falling. She looked at him. "Tell them to leave…tell them to leave us alone."

"Oh, Finduilas I cannot, they…" Denethor started, but then the look on his wife's face made him stop. He sighed, and frowning slightly turned to the maids. "You may leave us now." The maids looked at each other.

"But, she is too…"

"Please. It is what she wishes." The maids slowly left. Denethor turned back to his wife. Candle light flickered on her face. Time passed in silence.

"I'm cold, Denethor." A tear slipped from Finduilas's eye. Denethor put her hand gently onto the bed and standing removed his cloak. He went round to the other side of the bed and wrapped the cloak about his dying wife. He sat on the bed and took her into his arms, her head leaning against his chest. Words need not have been spoken of the moment that had come. Tears fell from Denethor's eyes. "I am leaving this world," Finduilas said, barely audible. Denethor held her closer.

"I am sorry, my love. I should have done more…" Denethor started, through freely flowing tears. "I should have had you return to Amroth, to see the Sea again. You could have been well again."

"No…" Finduilas reached a hand to her husbands face, touching it lightly as she dropped it again, not finding the strength to keep it where she wanted it. "I would not have left. How could I have been happy without you and our beautiful sons?" They both sat a while and wept silently.

"Look after them Denethor," Finduilas held onto his sleeve. "Look after Boromir and…" Her voice wavered. "And…" Denethor looked at her with rapid eyes, unable to speak. "I love you, Denethor." Finduilas's eyes closed, her shallow breathing ceased.

"Fin? Finduilas?" Denethor touched her face, and held her closer. "Finduilas?"

He wept, his tears glistening on her raven hair.

_The End_


End file.
